A Wolf of Her Own by Susanna Shore

to console them. It would have been expected of him.
    Gemma wasn’t clan. She stiffened, clearly uncomfortable with the contact. But she didn’t pull away, so he let the arm be, not moving, not changing his hold, allowing the warmth of his energy to surround her. Little by little, her tension eased until she relaxed against him. He wrapped both arms around her and held her.
    Like always, the healing embrace affected him as well, the energy he gave not wasted but multiplied with the contact. But her energy was different. The embrace was different. A cool current began to vibrate inside him where her energy mingled with his. It excited as much as it comforted. Their combined energies moved through him, gaining momentum. He tightened his hold as it strengthened, until it became too much.
    He let her go, rather abruptly. She looked dazed and she shivered for losing the warmth of their contact. He felt the loss too. He cleared his throat to be able to speak. "We have guys who operate the incinerator. Why don’t we let them deal with the carcasses?"
    "I guess I’ll head home then."
    "I’ll drive you."
    Gemma sat behind Kieran and leaned against him, unable to keep herself up. He had reined in the warmth of his energy, but he could have been a furnace for all she cared. She wanted to close her eyes, but she was pretty sure she would fall asleep if she did.
    They took the lane this time, an old path that cut through an ancient forest on the south side of the brick wall surrounding the manor estate, all of it clan territory too. It had been Gemma’s favourite place when she was still living home, never mind that it was private property. She hadn’t been afraid to walk there at night and the forest felt like an old friend now.
    The forest gave way to fields, first the clan’s and then Tom’s. When they approached the farm, solitary trees stood sentry on both sides of the lane, most of them the same as when she had still been human, only larger and gnarlier. Spring was advancing in great leaps, the buds on the trees already bigger than they had been when she arrived the day before, ready to burst open.
    The lane ended at the farm yard, its ground hard from centuries of use, now muddy in places after the winter and the rains. On the left was the house, two stories of grey stone walls with a slated roof, the former covered with remains of last year’s creepers and the latter with green moss. It was old, but not the first house that had stood there. Her father had built the current house for Mother when they married. It was in good condition, considering that the last great refurbishing had been done in the 1950s after her father died. Outbuildings framed the courtyard on three sides, each as old as the other, all of them grey and dreary, although well maintained.
    Kieran pulled over by the barn, as if he had known it was the right spot for the vehicle, swerving around a muddy spot that always formed near the wall. They both dismounted, Gemma slightly stiffly, her legs unaccustomed to so much riding in one day. She would recover; she was a vampire.
    She glanced around, searching for something to say to him. She dreaded the moment he would go away and leave her to face the long afternoon alone. Solitude didn’t usually bother her, although she was seldom alone, but the killing had shaken her confidence in the safety of the farm. Any company would do, but a strong wolf-shifter was better. Perhaps she should invite him for a cup of tea.
    The idea immediately appealing to her, she was about to make the invitation when he tensed, alert. His wolf peeked out and they both snarled at something behind her.
    Alarmed, she turned slowly around. Two huge men entered the yard on foot. One had fashionably cut russet hair and a clean chin, the other a shaven head marred by a horrible scar and stubble. Tall and muscular, their menace wasn’t diminished by mud spatters that covered their black leather outfits. They looked like members of a